Connection
by hardly loquacious
Summary: Over the years, after a tough day she'd also gotten used to a cup of tea and an absolutely-not-hovering consultant (a compensation the Washington Sheriff's office had never boasted). It seemed that the FBI came with that service though (more than compensating for the occasional mortal danger). Lisbon and Jane try to deal with their shifting relationship. Sequel to Consummate.


_A/N: This takes place about a week after "Consummate," but before episode 6.12. I'm posting it this week in spite of myself, I think. I'm a little unsure about it, in the same way I'm unsure about just about everything in this new universe of mine. But I've decided not to pick at it for a month. Instead, I have hollowed out a cave under my rock and brought snacks._

_Thanks so much to Cathy for the read-through. It was very helpful. (Although, as you've probably guessed, I'm not entirely sure I believe you.)_

_Also, I was a bit overwhelmed by the response to Consummate. Thank you everyone. I hope this one lives up to it. And I hope you enjoy._

xxx

Connection

xxx

Her evening was actually going better than she'd expected it to, all things considered.

The case had been a messy one from the start. They'd all known it would be. But she was with the FBI, and the FBI got called in when a case involved a potential national security breach and a political fanatic with a private arsenal that could have armed an entire county. Luckily, some political fanatics also had extremely poor aim.

Lisbon shook her head to clear it. She was particularly lucky that their crazy friend couldn't hit the broadside of a barn under pressure. Not to mention, she was better trained and a better shot than he could ever hope to be.

Still, she'd almost forgotten what days like this felt like; the rush of adrenaline when you realized things were about to go very bad.

It was a long way from a Washington Sheriff's office.

Maybe there was something to be said for the biggest excitement of her day being that the office had run out of staples.

But that was the kind of thought that only flitted through her mind for the briefest of seconds, even on days like today. Days when she wondered whether a bulletproof body suit really might be worth investing in, because sometimes calls were a little too close (even when logically she _knew_ that it hadn't actually been _that_ close at all, not even in her top ten).

Days that were followed by evenings where any kind of a distraction was a blessing.

She'd developed a system over the years. A system for filtering through thoughts on her own mortality, and the inevitable danger of the job she loved. The system let her do her job, allowed her to shut away the images that could otherwise haunt, kept them out of sight.

Well, most of the time.

She'd gotten very good at putting herself back together over the years. No one else was going to do it, that was for sure.

And her system was _effective_, but it _did_ tend to involve a lonely evening (or two).

Lisbon smiled to herself. Because over the years, after a tough day she'd also gotten used to a cup of tea and an absolutely-not-hovering consultant (a compensation the Washington Sheriff's office had never boasted).

It seemed that the FBI came with that service though (more than compensating for the occasional mortal danger).

Her smile grew.

The cup of tea had appeared on the edge of her desk after her debrief with Abbott (both of them agreeing that no psych eval or counselling was required in this case, _thank god_). The steaming cup and saucer had been on her desk, and Jane had been ensconced in the corner of his couch closest to her chair, pretending to be mulling something over in his brain.

Lisbon knew he'd been pretending (and doing a particularly poor job of it), because five minutes later he'd been leaning against _her_ desk, reading something on her computer screen over her shoulder.

In other words, watching _her._

(She wondered when it that behaviour had started causing a warmth to rise in her chest rather than annoyance.)

And through it all, Jane had been acting shockingly normal, all things considered.

It was always hard to tell with Patrick Jane, how he'd react.

Lisbon hadn't been sure what to expect. He'd been different since returning to the States anyway (probably an effect of Red John finally dead and gone). But after last week... After Jane had spent the night in her apartment, _her bed_… She flushed. Well, that night and then one night midweek.

She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting. It was all so new. They were figuring it out, whatever it was. It was different, and it wasn't. To be sure, if Jane had acted anything other than normal in the office, she'd have killed him. But sometimes normal was hard to maintain when bullets were flying in her general direction.

What _was_ appropriate behaviour when the woman you had just started sleeping with got shot at? (Lisbon doubted Miss Manners provided an answer to that question.)

But other than continuing his non-hovering even after they left the FBI building and hinting about ordering some Thai food when they got back to her place (a self-invitation that hadn't escaped her), Jane was being really, _really,_ reasonable. He'd even distracted her as she drove with silly stories about South America and what people must have thought of him down there. She'd taken them all with a grain of salt (as she did with most of Jane's stories).

Lisbon bit her lip as she reached for the keys to her front door. Because while she was sure the calm wouldn't last, the company was nice.

Usually she told herself she liked being alone after days like these to get herself sorted for the rest of the week, but she could admit to herself that she wasn't sorry to know that Jane was standing patiently behind her as she unlocked her apartment door. In fact, she had the craziest urge to turn and lean up against him, just for a few minutes, just to absorb his warmth.

Maybe even be comforted.

(Not that she needed it, but she might want...)

She turned towards him in her entryway. "So where were you thinking of ordering the …"

The question didn't even make it out of her mouth before her back hit the wall.

Even in the initial moments of shock, Lisbon dimly registered hearing her apartment door slam as Jane's mouth bruised hers and his hands pressed into her hips.

Hot.

Near.

_Need._

_Jane._

His _mouth._ _Oh._ His mouth.

On _hers._

So much more than comfort.

So much...

Hard.

Hot.

_So hot._

_Don't stop._

Lisbon's muffled moan echoed in the (mostly) quiet room. Suddenly frantic for more, her arms unfroze from odd angles at her sides and locked around his shoulders, his waist.

His mouth making demands she never would have agreed to if they'd been verbal.

But she had demands of her own.

All involving him.

She gave herself up to them (to him, to them, to _this_).

She tightened the arm around Jane's shoulders, trying to get more leverage.

Felt his leg slide between hers with a grunt.

Problem solved. (Clever man.)

Her bottom lip between his teeth.

Before breaking apart for breath.

Barely a second.

Back again.

His hands, moving.

Down.

Trying to drag her closer.

Finding friction.

_Fuck._

Hands sliding back up. And up. Too frantic to take their time along the way.

Her waist. Her neck. Her hair. Her breasts.

A moan whose source she couldn't identify. Mouths too close.

His hands in her shirt. Ripping it out of her pants.

Hands moving on skin now.

_More._

Jane, _more._

Her hand tight in his shirt. Fumbling buttons.

Her shirt hitting the floor half a second before her back slammed up against the wall a second time.

His goddamn buttons finally open. (Why so many buttons with _no vest?_)

Her brain feeling like it was working thirty seconds behind his. Uncaring.

A sigh.

_More skin. _

His skin beneath her fingers. (His breath panting against her cheek.)

Was she willing to have his hands off her long enough to actually push the shirt off his shoulders?

Probably not.

Pressed skin to skin instead.

Hot. Burning through her.

Her apartment was warmer than outside, but surely the difference wasn't sixty degrees.

Felt like it was. But didn't matter.

No stopping. (For either of them.)

His mouth pulling against her neck.

Her head falling back against the wall as her hand slid up his back.

Couldn't open her eyes, even if she wanted to.

(Didn't want to. Just wanted to feel.)

Her hand tightening in the hair at the back of his neck.

There. _Yes, there_.

Where did her bra go? And when did it happen?

She stopped wondering when his hands replaced it.

Tracing circles.

_Jane!_

Bit her lip a little too hard.

Pressed down on the leg still between hers. Rolling her hips until her name was being chanted in her ear.

_Yes._

_Teresa. Teresa. Teresa._

Again and again and again.

She needed to hear it.

_Alive. So alive_.

And if she was going to die tomorrow (she _wasn't, _but if she _was_), this was exactly how she'd want to spend her last few hours.

(Not that she'd ever tell him. He was arrogant enough.)

She grabbed his hair and tugged his head back up to hers.

Wanted to kiss him.

Nipped his lower lip (he _liked _that, she _knew_). Demanded the rest of his mouth.

A groan when his leg slid from between hers.

Until she felt his hands along her waistband, heard a zipper moving down.

Decided he could lose his pants too. She would get that done.

But no stopping his lips on hers. _No._

She drew the line there. Ran her tongue against his.

Felt his hands slide to the backs of her thighs. Lift.

She was always surprised by how strong he was.

Legs wrapped around his waist.

Her shoes were gone. She'd definitely kicked one off. The other was a mystery. He might have helped.

Irrelevant.

Could feel him hot against her.

The wall still behind her. Patrick Jane in front. Her hands on his shoulders. Steadying.

He met her eyes for the first time since slamming her front door.

She stared back.

A meeting of just-barely-holding-on.

But not for much longer.

_Now._

It was an order, but one he actually obeyed.

_Patrick!_

She screamed.

And shattered first.

xxx

They ended up on the couch.

He'd let her down gently, and when Lisbon was sure she could walk, she'd led him away from the wall. Jane had been leaning against her, his face buried against her neck, and (if the tightness of his hold around her waist was any indication) she wasn't sure he'd have moved any time soon if left to his own devices.

So she'd pushed him (_gently_) to her couch, tucked herself between his body and the back of the couch and tossed a throw over them as best she could. Because her apartment seemed to have returned to a normal temperature.

His arm was still tighter than usual around her waist.

She didn't dislike it. And decided it was justification for snuggling a little closer.

She sent him a tentative smile when she felt his fingers drawing patterns on her back..."I'm guessing your phone isn't exactly at arm's length."

Jane looked up at her (and she tried not to gasp at the expression in his eyes). He considered her question for a moment. "I imagine it's with yours, somewhere in the pile of clothing by your door."

"Rock, paper, scissors to find out who has to get up to order the Thai?" she offered lightly. They both knew what she was doing. The suggestion was pointless. He'd beat her ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

As she'd hoped, he smiled slightly. Then his arm tightened again as he shook his head. "I'll get it in a minute." Then it was his turn to try and tease. "Someone's worn me out." He placed a kiss against her hair.

Lisbon slid a leg over his with a happy sigh, perfectly willing to steal a few more minutes of this unexpected peace. "Kay."

It was almost twenty minutes later when the phone call was finally made. While Jane was on the phone, Lisbon made her way to her bedroom and put on a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, tossing Jane a pair of sweatpants he'd left in her bedroom a few days earlier.

He caught them as he hung up the phone, frowning slightly when he saw how much of her was covered now. "Food'll be here in about half an hour," he told her as he slid the pants on and started re-buttoning his shirt. He decided he'd rather not spill Thai food on his bare chest. Besides, no need to give the delivery person a bit of a show. He turned his attention back to the woman on the other side of the room.

He'd needed her, just needed. He'd managed to keep his emotions in check at the office, but the second they stepped into her home…

She'd been smiling to herself, her thoughts obviously pleasant, and all he could think was _someone had tried to shoot her._

It wasn't the first time; Jane knew it probably wouldn't be the last, but...

He'd realized long ago what Teresa Lisbon had come to mean to him.

Still, acknowledging it was one thing. Confronting it was something entirely different. Still, he'd started them down this path a week ago, and he couldn't pull away now. Didn't want to.

Even if it had been years since Jane had allowed himself to put another emotion before an all-consuming revenge. He'd meant to go slowly, to protect himself. But it seemed, life had other plans. He shouldn't have been surprised. She'd always been able to get under his skin, one way or another, with sometimes unexpected consequences.

But seeing her in danger, just when he was finally acting on long-contained his feelings... Even his control could only last so long.

He'd needed to prove to himself to that she was okay, that she was here, to feel...

And he hadn't wanted to waste another second. (What if something happened to her tomorrow?) There was so much he wanted to say to her that he wasn't sure he could.

So he'd held her to him, just absorbed her warmth.

His beautiful Lisbon.

He watched her carefully. Had been all evening. Hadn't wanted to let her out of his sight. (For some reason, she hadn`t called him on it yet.)

She may have been dressed again (and he definitely thought the tights at least were unnecessary), but thankfully she also looked relaxed.

Actually, it was more than that. Lisbon looked almost smug. Her good mood was practically rolling off of her. Jane couldn't help smiling then, even if he could still feel the rest of the feelings bouncing around his brain in the background.

Lisbon smirked as she made her way over to him. "How will we ever pass the time while we wait?"

Jane laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, running a hand through her hair. Then he turned serious, because the things he wanted to say to her were still banging at the edges of his brain, even if neither of them were ready for them. "Want to talk about it?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Not necessarily," she admitted with a shrug. "I thought I'd be the one asking you that."

He glanced away. Of course she'd call him on it. After years of self-restraint, he'd lost control in a rather spectacular way about an hour ago.

Not that Lisbon looked like she minded. (Quite the opposite, his ego pointed out almost gleefully.)

She shifted closer. "It's not the first time you've seen me in danger," she said tentatively.

Jane winced. And realized that some things were going to have to be said. "It was different this time."

"Why?" she pressed.

Even as he rested his forehead against hers, his mouth turned stubborn. He wasn't ready to tell her right now. If he told her, and she got overwhelmed... If she pulled back... He didn't know if he could... "Because."

She pulled away and crossed her arms. "Jane."

He had to resist the urge to grab her back, tried not to get distracted by the way her hair was falling in all directions, obviously as a result of his hands tangled in it. "Lisbon."

"Tell me," she insisted gently. "Tell me why it's different."

He ran a hand through his own hair. Part of him wanted to tell her. Part of him was terrified of spooking her. Part of him was just plain afraid to say it out loud. "You know why."

"Maybe I don't," she said stubbornly, stepping backwards.

He glared at her. Two could play at this game. "You could take a guess."

To his surprise, she looked uncomfortable.

"I don't like guessing when it comes to this stuff," Lisbon said softly. "I often guess wrong." Actually, it felt like she _always_ guessed wrong. She was great with a criminal. She wasn't so good with a boyfr -… with a man.

Her admission had obviously captured Jane's attention, so she pressed a little harder. "Why is it different, Patrick?"

He sighed. She shouldn't be allowed to ask questions in that voice. Soft and sincere, and _using his first name_. Next thing he knew she'd be saying _please_ and he'd be sunk. He was sunk now. Damn her. "Because I could come over," he admitted, telling her part of the truth. Maybe they would get to the rest in a roundabout fashion. Or maybe it would come another day.

"You couldn't come over before?" Lisbon asked, surprised. "I mean, even without the…"

"No," Jane said quickly. The reason he could be in her living room wasn't that they were sleeping together. Well, that wasn't the _only_ reason.

"Says who?" she demanded, always straight to the point.

"Me," Jane said succinctly. He'd had a lot of rules back then, out of necessity.

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. "You decided you weren't allowed to come over?"

He nodded quickly.

"Why?"

He stared at her. She wasn't really going to make him spell it all out for her, was she? "You know why."

She put her hands on her hips. "If I told you once, I told you a million times, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I make my own choices. And if Red John had wanted to…"

And with that, Jane snapped again. "My way got you out of it alive, so you don't get to criticize it!" he hissed, his eyes blazing.

He could tell he'd shocked her. "And that's all you wanted, me making it out alive?"

Jane paused. Maybe it hadn't been _all_ he wanted, but it had certainly been one of the primary goals (second only to making sure he was personally responsible for Red John's death).

Lisbon swallowed and took a step towards him. And forced herself to ask the obvious follow-up question. The one whose answer she was exhilaratingly terrified to hear. "Did you want to come over?" she whispered. "Before, I mean."

Jane could only stare. Even _she_ had to know the answer to that question. "_Yes_."

She just stared at him for a moment. "You _idiot." _

This time it was Jane's turn to shift closer, reaching a hand out to wrap around her elbow. Because he wouldn't, couldn't change anything. And he wasn't sure she would either, even if she could have. They'd both known the risks back then, both known the probable consequences (and both known the danger of hope). "Those were the nights I was glad you were a workaholic, because you'd stay where I could see you." And if she'd been in her office, even if he was in the bullpen, he could still see her. Knew that she was alive. It had taken so much self-control not to try and get closer, not to insinuate himself into the heart of her world. Not when he was still that dangerous.

"I was sorting things out in my brain. Putting it away," Lisbon explained. The monotony of the paperwork had actually helped with that. "I had a system."

"Ah," Jane said softly, running his hand up and down her arm. It seems they'd both had their systems, separate but nearby.

"Which expanded to include tea," Lisbon added.

Jane smiled slightly. "I made you tea earlier."

"Yeah," she whispered, locking her eyes on his and wishing for possibly the first time that he really could read minds, because she wasn't sure she could actually say what she was thinking.

He slid a hand around her waist. "I still can't quite believe I get to see you again, and then I almost couldn't. It was bad enough when you were a continent away. If I couldn't even picture you content in a county sheriff's office..."

Lisbon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jane held on. Because just seeing her wasn't enough anymore. He wasn't sure if it ever would be again. Not after kissing her until she sighed against him. Not after moving inside her. Not after feeling her lose control around him.

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," he murmured.

Lisbon swallowed the lump in her throat. "Nothing's happened to me yet."

"I know," he whispered. "But it almost has."

"Stuff's almost happened to you too," she pointed out. Neither of them could make promises. She was an FBI Agent, and Jane had a talent for trouble.

He just buried his nose in her hair. "Yeah."

Then she stiffened and pulled back and watched him carefully. "Wait, are you saying that if something happened to me you'd go off on another scary obsession?"

Jane winced internally. "Not necessarily," he hedged.

He was hit with the full force of her glare again. "_Not at all._"

Jane almost laughed. "Lisbon…"

But she was ignoring him. She hadn't seen him through Red John so he could fall off the deep end a second time. She _refused._ "No!" she snapped. "Let's get one thing straight right now, Patrick Jane. If we're doing this, and it seems that we _are_, then you are absolutely not to go nuts on the off-chance that something happens to me, do you understand? I refuse to allow it. I absolutely refuse. And if you even think about it, I want you to remember one thing. That it is absolutely the _last_ thing I would ever want, and if you care about me at all, you'll _stop_."

He kissed her. He had to. "Lisbon…"

"No," she whispered, her lips inches from his. "I watched my father lose it after my mother died. He was a good man, but he couldn't get past it. I will _not_ accept responsibility for the same thing happening to you."

He tried to joke, because promises were pointless. "Has it ever occurred to you that it might just be that some women, the Lisbon women included, are just so amazing that, after a tragedy, the men in their lives can't possibly be expected to move on?"

"Don't change the subject," she ordered.

"I won't make a promise I can't keep," he said softly.

Lisbon sighed, ran a hand through her hair. "Promise to try at least."

He watched her for a moment. "I promise to try," he said softly.

She nodded. "Okay."

"You'd think I was the one having the bad day at work," Jane said lightly. "I was well out of the line of fire this time."

She shrugged. "People react differently."

"Are you okay?" he asked, running a finger along the back of her neck.

Because he looked so concerned and she was momentarily charmed, she told him the truth. "I'm glad I'm not alone in an oppressively quiet apartment."

Her reward was his lips on hers. "I'm happy to help you make as much noise as you want, love," he whispered against her mouth.

She giggled. Her sudden happiness distracting her almost enough that she didn't notice that the word didn't scare her as much as it had only a week before. "Also, I'm tougher than you," she added when she had the breath for it.

"I guess it all just hit me," Jane said. "That I might not get what I'm hoping for."

She quirked her head to the side, the warmth of his arms around her waist making her feel reckless. "And what, Mr. Jane, are you hoping for?"

He paused, suddenly trying to move on from the darkness. She'd always made him want to focus on the good; it seemed appropriate. He'd said part of what he'd wanted to; maybe it was time to broach the other part. "Have you ever seen those couples who've obviously known each other for forty, fifty, maybe even sixty years? You must have. You can tell the second you see them, sitting in a diner for a breakfast on a Sunday morning, walking around the neighbourhood, arm in arm…"

His words shouldn't have caused pain. And she should have been far more terrified than she was. But she wasn't willing to ask herself why she wasn't curling in on herself. Not yet. All she could do was stall. "Jane..."

He smiled. "Lisbon."

She swallowed. "I think sixty years is optimistic at this point."

"I might be counting on forty though," he said softly. It was one of the reasons he'd jumped on Abbott's offer. His ridiculous conditions had been mostly for show. Only one had really mattered. "We've already got about a dozen, if we count two years of letter-writing. Which I do."

"Jane," Lisbon said again, unsure of what else there was to say.

He reached for her hand, knew her pulse would be racing. He really didn't mean to push so hard, but she said things and somehow he couldn't stop himself from telling her. He _wanted_ to tell her. He had to hope that if he told her enough times that they'd both get used to it. And anyway, it wasn't as insane as it sounded. Not this time. Whatever else she was, she'd been his best friend for a long time. Sometimes his only friend. "This isn't me putting pressure on you. I'm not saying…I know the state of our relationship is in flux. I know we haven't decided where we're going to end up. But I guess whatever happens, I always pictured you there."

Lisbon took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. Because he was right. She'd gotten used to him as a constant in her life. It was one of the reasons the last two years had been so hard to adjust to. And one of the reasons she'd secretly never given up hope that maybe, one day… "Jane."

"Sometimes they're not married," he added, determined to convince. "Sometimes they're just old friends playing chess in the park who've known each other for forty years."

She watched him for a moment. Reigned in all the sudden (and terrifying) _wants._ Kept things light instead. "I'm not playing chess with you."

Jane hadn't been expecting that answer. "Why not?"

"So I can get my ass kicked on a regular basis while you smirk at me?" Lisbon demanded, turning and walking over to the couch. She'd seen him play chess, knew how good he was. She almost never played, and he'd read her like a book. "No thank you. Besides, chess has really rigid rules, and I learned long ago not to try and beat you at a game of your choice, playing your way. Far better to just ignore your rules and play the game my way."

Jane was fairly certain he'd never loved her more. _"Teresa_."

"Don't look at me like that," she whispered. When he looked at her like that it felt like her heart was going to explode. (She wondered if he'd noticed that she'd only refused the game, not the time frame. She hadn't promised either, but... She ordered herself to stop thinking about it.)

He leaned over the arm of the couch and, taking her face in his hands, he kissed her. "You know, love, there are all sorts of strategies in chess. You really won't play with me?"

Oh, she'd play with him alright. "Jane…"

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he wheedled, sliding around the arm to sit on the couch next to her. "I bet it'll be nice in some of the parks."

Lisbon crossed her arms.

Instead of looking put out, Jane grinned. "Come on Lisbon, practice makes perfect. And if all goes like I'm hoping it will, you'll have forty years to practice your game. If we start now, you might even win one in a decade or so."

Lisbon gritted her teeth and tried not to rise to the bait, but even she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Unless she could come up with some kind of distraction, she was sunk. The only other option was to push him away, and she really didn't want to push him away tonight. She'd spent so many nights reassuring herself, and part of her may have been looking forward to being held.

And while she was generally fine with her day, she _had_ been shot at.

Maybe she deserved to be comforted.

Jane obviously sensed his advantage. He casually picked up one of her hands and began to play with her fingers. "You know what the South Americans probably said to themselves as I walked by?"

"What?" Lisbon asked dryly.

"There goes that nice Mr. Jane. Always looking so lonely."

And with that everything in Lisbon conceded defeat.

She kissed him. Broke away after a few minutes. "I guess we'll have to grab you a change of clothes tomorrow morning if we're going to the park."

Jane beamed at her, thrilled to be guaranteed a little more of her time. "Someone's confident she can convince me to spend the night."

She didn't even bother rising to the bait, just kissed him again.

When he pulled away a few minutes later, Jane realized he was practically laying on top of her. "Fair point."

xxx

As Lisbon expected, Jane was kicking her ass at chess.

They were on their third game. The first one had barely lasted ten minutes. The second had at least been respectable. She was hoping the third would throw him at least once.

She may have been getting her slaughtered chess, but he'd been right about it being a beautiful day at the park. The weather was perfect; sunny and warm, but not too hot. They'd grabbed a table in the shade and had been there for almost an hour now. If Jane had asked, Lisbon might have even admitted that she was actually feeling relaxed. Maybe she had needed a quiet afternoon out with a friend. Or whatever Jane was.

(The man who'd maybe promised to be there for the rest of her life.)

She glanced up at him sitting across from her, studying the board. He'd grabbed a clean button down shirt and a pair of jeans from his hotel room that morning, and the sun was glinting through his hair through the trees. He looked sexy as hell. She'd caught more than one envious look in her direction from passing women.

She couldn't say she blamed them.

In fact, she was thinking of bringing him home with her again tonight.

She was smiling to herself when Jane caught her eye.

He was about to ask about the twinkle in her eye, when another voice interrupted him.

"Fancy meeting you two here," said an amused-looking Fischer.

Jane turned towards her. "Why Agent Fischer, what are you doing in the park this fine afternoon?"

"Just out for a walk," Fischer told him. "It's such a nice day. Then I saw you two and I thought I'd say hi."

"Jane's trying to convert me to chess," Lisbon explained. "I've yet to be convinced."

Fischer smirked. "My father loved the game. I think he was always disappointed it never really caught on with me or my brother. Though John's better at it than I am."

"You have a brother?" Lisbon asked.

"Yeah," Fischer confirmed. "Two years older. Works in IT in Connecticut. You?"

"Three," Lisbon told her. "All younger."

"Oof. Must have been fun," Fischer said dryly.

"They had their moments," Lisbon agreed.

"How are you?" Fischer asked abruptly. "I mean, after…"

Lisbon's smile was genuine. "I'm fine," she assured the other woman. "Really, I am. I went home last night, relaxed. Besides, it's not the first time I've been shot at."

"Good," Fischer said. "Not that it's the first time you've been shot at, but…"

"I knew what you meant," Lisbon assured her.

"Anyway, I should let you get back to your game," Fischer said.

"It is Lisbon's turn," Jane said from across the table, up until that point completely content to watch the two women interact.

"Oh please, this is hardly a serious game," Lisbon said. She turned to Fischer. "He can wait five minutes. He needs to work on his patience anyway."

Jane glared. "Only a game. I'll have you know that chess is a very serious undertaking."

"Oh fine." Lisbon glanced down at the board and smiled before moving her bishop. "Check."

Jane frowned in shock. "Wait, what?"

Lisbon laughed delightedly. "Didn't see that coming, did you?" To be honest, neither had she, but she was hardly going to tell him that.

He glanced up at her, noting her smirk. "If it's mate in nine moves or something, just tell me now."

Lisbon just shrugged.

Jane tried his most charming smile. "Come on Lisbon."

She remained still.

Jane grumbled staring at the board.

"I can see the appeal of chess," Fischer said, watching them.

Lisbon laughed. "I admit, I couldn't originally, but I may be coming around."

"So, is it mate in nine moves?" Fischer asked curiously.

Lisbon grinned, sensing that the woman might be becoming an ally. "I'd tell you, but he'd hear."

Fischer found herself laughing. "Fair enough."

"Cruel woman," Jane muttered.

"Oh, use that big brain of yours," Lisbon shot back easily.

Jane continued to grumble. "I guess I should be glad you haven't pulled out a hammer yet."

Fischer looked startled.

"I keep that in my desk, not my jacket pocket," Lisbon reminded him sweetly. She made a mental note to put a series of implements in her desk drawer at the FBI just for future use screwing with Jane.

"Right, how foolish of me." He frowned at the board.

"He always like this?" Fischer asked, secretly wondering if they both were. Though she'd realized early on that she'd probably never quite understand their relationship. And she liked the other woman far too much to keep asking, particularly as long as they were professional in the office (something that she wasn't at all concerned about with Lisbon, and Jane wasn't particularly professional about anything, so...).

"Yep," Lisbon agreed. Jane was often like this when he wasn't being weighed down by his demons.

Jane suddenly realized something. He was looking in the wrong place. He turned his attention from the chess pieces to the woman across from him. "You have no idea if it's mate in nine moves, do you?"

Lisbon's smile widened in spite of herself.

Jane was secretly thrilled, but managed to conceal it (well, mostly). "You were just trying to surprise me."

Lisbon laughed.

Jane grinned. "Well played, Teresa."

Fischer seemed to realize she was intruding. "Well, I should get back to my walk. I was thinking of running the last two miles. And I have errands I need to run."

"Okay," Lisbon said easily. "It was nice seeing you."

"Mr. Jane," she said to Jane.

"Agent Fischer," he replied just as gravely.

"I'll see you Monday," Fischer said as she turned to leave. She'd barely gone two steps before she spun back around. "And y'know, if you ever need anything…"

Lisbon smiled. "Yeah," she assured the other woman. "You too."

Fischer shot her an awkward smile before jogging away.

Lisbon watched her go with a smile.

"You like her," Jane said softly.

Lisbon glanced back at him. "So? Don't you?"

Jane shrugged. "Of course, but I still like watching you two together more. Besides, we could all use a few more friends in this world, couldn't we?"

Lisbon held his eyes, the statement suddenly taking on a weight of its own, given the events of the evening before. "Yeah."

Jane nodded once, then smiled again. "Anyway, the two of you obviously had a lot in common. And separately you're impressive, but together you could be quite the team. `Kim's a nice woman. Seems like a good FBI Agent, if a bit tightly wound."

"You probably would have said the same thing about me when we met," Lisbon pointed out.

Jane shook his head. "You were never that tightly wound. And you were always more confident, more sure of yourself than our Agent Fischer over there."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Well, that almost sounds like a compliment."

"I've complimented you before," Jane reminded her. "And I liked you from the first time I met you."

"Really?" Lisbon asked, pleased in spite of herself.

"Mmhm," Jane agreed. "Though I'm well aware that you thought of me as something between a nuisance and a lost puppy."

"Oh, I didn't…" Lisbon tried to object.

He waved it away before smiling wickedly. "So you had a relaxing evening last night, did you Agent Lisbon?"

She smirked. "Well, there was certainly a release of tension."

"Last night and then this morning, if I'm not mistaken," Jane murmured.

Lisbon's smile widened. "Now that you mention it, that's true."

Jane leaned close as if confessing a secret. "I've been telling you for years that you need to lower your stress levels."

"Well, I can only assume that means that if I happen to start feeling stressed tonight that you'll be at my disposal," Lisbon said.

Jane beamed. "I thought you'd never ask, love."

"Oh, I wasn't," she assured him, deciding to enjoy the warmth spreading from the mini explosion in her chest. "Your move, _Patrick."_

His eyes flashed. "Someone's playing a dangerous game."

"Not that dangerous," she shot back. "And anyway, it's been a long time since I've had someone to play with."

Without taking his eyes from hers, Jane moved his rook. "Check," he said. "Game on."

Lisbon smiled, suddenly uncaring if she lost the next half a dozen chess games.

Because he was here. He was sitting across from her on a beautiful day and smiling like he didn't have a care in the world. She was determined to enjoy it for what it was. Enjoy it without feeling guilty.

Maybe for the first time in her life, she just wanted to play with her partner.

And hope that she really did have forty years to figure out the rest.

xxx

The End


End file.
